Whisper Words of Wisdom
by blueink3
Summary: The moments when Will Schuester was at the right place at the right time, a few times he wasn't, and the one time someone was there for him. Will/Everyone
1. Emma

_Emma_

It all began with a piece of gum and a credit card. Without a thought to whose mouth that gum had been in or how many hands had swiped his card for him, he pulled the piece of plastic out of his wallet and wiped the gum off her shoe.

He kneeled on the hard pavement and gently took her ankle in his warm hand as she doled out sage advice.

"There you go, Cinderella."

He released her smooth ankle and discreetly flexed his hand.

It was numb.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The rain had been coming down for a solid 32 hours – as if Mondays weren't miserable enough.

He slammed his car door shut and sprinted to the side entrance, his coat draped over his head. He and Terri owned only one umbrella and Terri laid claim to it whenever the sky looked remotely like rain.

He attempted to keep his footing on the slippery floor as he shook his head back and forth.

"Lookin' good, Mr. Schue," Mercedes called as she passed.

He chuckled. "Yeah, like a wet dog."

He walked carefully to his classroom, his shoes squeaking with every step he took, hoping that the graded Spanish quizzes in his bag were somehow miraculously dry. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickened his pace to his desk, dropping his bag and coat on his chair so he could dig the phone out.

"Hello?"

"Will?" _Emma._ Her voice was strained and he could hear her sharp intakes of breath on the other end of the line.

"Emma, what's wrong?' Will had paused in ringing out his tie and it remained forgotten in his grip.

"Will, the –the…" She broke down sobbing.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Em. Breathe."

He waited a few moments, listening to her sobs quiet down and her gasps subside.

"Good. Now tell me what happened."

"I was walking into the school and I – I slipped. I landed in a puddle, my umbrella broke, and someone drove by and sprayed...mu-mud all over me. I can't… I just can't…" She left her sentence to hang in the air but Will understood what she meant.

"Where are you now?"

"Look outside."

Will rushed to the window and sure enough, Emma stood completely frozen in the parking lot next to her car.

"I'll be right there." Will snapped the phone shut and jogged out to the parking lot, slipping only once on his way.

As he got closer, he saw the mud streaks that marred her yellow skirt and the water that dripped from her hair. He didn't care that his own shirt was soaked through and clinging to his body.

She shook like a leaf and it wasn't until he placed a hand on her arm that she seemed to notice his presence.

"Em?"

She shook harder and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her up.

"Let's get you home and into some dry clothes." He had a free period first thing that morning and he assumed the students would survive if their guidance counselor was an hour late.

He placed his hand on her back and attempted to steer her towards her car, but she pulled away from him, violently shaking her head.

"No, no, no, no. I can't."

He looked at her puzzled and he blinked a few times to shake the raindrops free from his eyelashes.

"You can't what?"

She continued to shake her head as she stared down at her skirt, her hair sticking to her forehead with every move she made.

Will followed her gaze to the mud that clung to her legs and his heart hurt for her. Of course she couldn't get in her car. Of course she couldn't walk into her office. The dirt and grime were literally debilitating.

He took his jacket off, wet though it was, and placed it around her shoulders.

"Come on, this way."

He led her silently to his car and opened the passenger door. She looked alarmed.

"Will, I can't get in that car. Look at me."

He smiled at her with what he hoped was an assuring expression. "Em, I don't care. Get in."

"Will…"

"Emma, I mean it. I don't care. Come on, my muffler is literally dragging on the pavement."

He could have sworn he saw a ghost of a smile on her face as she took a deep breath and slid into the seat. He ran around to the other side and popped the key into the ignition.

As he backed out of his parking space, he realized he had never actually seen her apartment. He didn't even know which street she lived on.

"Where to?" He adjusted the heat and made sure the vent was blowing on her. He could see the goosebumps on her legs, but he tried not to stare.

"Make a left up here." She continued to give him directions until he pulled up in front of a small duplex.

"I'm on the first floor." Her voice was still quiet and clipped and her eyes darted around like a frightened animal.

Will unbuckled his seatbelt and proceeded to undo hers when she refused to move. He jumped out into the rain again and opened the door for her. She flinched when the raindrops hit her again, as if they caused her pain.

He held her hand as he led her to her door and she only let go when she fumbled in her bag for her keys. She continued to shake as her fingers numbly searched the small clutch but she came up empty-handed. She let out strangled squeak as the bag tumbled to the ground.

Will picked it up before any permanent damage could be done but it appeared Emma's state seemed to have moved from 'shock' to 'catatonic.'

He held the bag out and asked, "May I?"

She deftly nodded her head and he searched its contents for her keys. Raindrops fell from his hair as he leaned over and mentally tallied the items she deemed most vital. As much as he wanted to respect her privacy, it was a very interesting situation he was in. How often would he have the opportunity to root through her things? He noticed cherry-flavored lip-gloss and a light green wallet before his fingers brushed something sharp and metal.

"Aha." He pulled the key ring out and held it up for her.

She silently took it from him and opened the door, letting it swing back. She remained in her spot, staring longingly into her warm, dry apartment.

Will glanced at her and then glanced at the door. He cleared his throat and again asked, "May I?"

Emma's brow furrowed. "May you what?"

Without another word, he toed off his shoes, swept her into his arms, and stepped into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Which way to the bathroom?"

Emma was stiff in his arms, but she managed to point down a hallway to the right. He maneuvered them through the living room and down the hall without touching any furniture or walls. After he set her down on the tiled floor, she looked up at him with an expression that he could only describe as confused awe.

The tension slowly started to seep in as he realized just how small the bathroom was and just how close they were standing. He wiped off a spot of mud that had somehow made its way to her cheek. His wedding ring reflected the overhead light.

"I should go. I have a second period class." He looked at the hardwood floor behind him. "I don't think I dripped too badly. But I'll tell Figgins you'll be a little late."

Again, Emma could only nod. As Will turned to leave, he felt her hand on his arm. It was the first time she had initiated physical contact.

"Thank you, Will." She squeezed her arm a little harder. "Thank you for rescuing me."

He smiled. "My pleasure."

And with that, he turned and left.

When Emma emerged from her hot shower 30 minutes later and dressed herself for the second time that day, she would open her front door to find an extra-large yellow umbrella leaning up against her door frame with a note attached:

"Thought you could use this. See you at lunch." – Will

The detour to the store made Will fifteen minutes late for his second period Spanish class and he arrived the following day with a stuffy nose and a hacking cough, but it didn't bother him.

When he returned to his office in between classes, he would find a bag of lozenges, a pouch of Echinacea tea, and a box of tissues on his desk with a note:

"Thought you could use this. See you at lunch." – Emma

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

When it rained the following Monday, Will didn't mind one bit.


	2. Artie

_Artie_

"You better shape up, cause I need a man, and my heart is set on you."

Rachel placed her hands on Artie's wheelchair handles and Will knew it was coming. Sure enough, she shoved and Artie went rolling.

He reached out, slamming his hands down on Artie's armrests as the teenager's head bumped into his chest.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Artie muttered as he eyed the edge of the stage behind Will.

"No problem."

Will spun him around and sent him rolling back in line.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Will adjusted his bag higher on his shoulder as he kicked his car door shut. The first day of school was always brutal: freshmen were lost, seniors were late, and excuses were given for incomplete summer homework. Will sighed and regretted not stopping at Starbucks for an extra shot of caffeine.

That was when he saw him: a small kid being helped out of a car into a wheelchair. He could only assume the man helping him was his father. They wore matching glasses and suspenders.

As much as Will loved new students, the sight of this boy brought a smile and then a frown to his face. No doubt one the teachers would soon find him stuffed into a porta-potty courtesy of one of the jocks. High school was many things, but fair was not one of them.

Will's first class was Spanish I and he read off the names on his student roster.

"Aaron?"

"Here."

"Abrams?" Silence. "Abrams?"

The freshmen looked around at each other and Will left the box next to Artie's name unchecked.

"Berry?"

A hand shot up from a brunette in the front row. "Right here, Mr. Schuester!"

_Oh boy._

That class, he learned that five students belonged in Spanish II, four students belonged in French but stumbled into the wrong classroom, and only one did the summer homework. Three guesses as to who that was.

Will packed up his worksheets as Rachel placed an apple on his desk saying, "It's my first day of school tradition."

Before Will could answer, she was out the door. He wandered over to the window, rubbing away the migraine that was beginning to pound in his temples. Beneath the tree on the far sidewalk sat the kid in the wheelchair, looking lost and upset.

Will jogged out the door, nearly running into Emma as he turned the corner. He grasped her shoulders to keep her upright as he tossed a quick "Sorry, Em" over his shoulder.

"Where's the fire?" She yelled but he was already out the door.

It was surprisingly cool for a September day. Even in Ohio. As Will got closer to the boy in the wheelchair, he noticed two things: the boy's glasses were gone and his backpack was hanging from a branch in the tree above his head.

"Hi, there."

The boy squinted in his direction. "Who's that?"

Will's heart broke when the boy visibly flinched away from him. "I'm Mr. Schuester, I teach Spanish. What's your name?"

"Artie Abrams."

_Abrams._ "You weren't supposed to be in my Spanish I class by any chance, were you?"

"I missed it?" Artie looked alarmed. "My first day is off to a terrific start."

"So, who was it?" Will asked as he reached up and snatched Artie's backpack from the tree and handed it to him.

"Who was what?" Artie picked at the arm of his wheelchair.

"Come on, Artie. Your backpack didn't end up in the tree all by itself."

Artie slumped in his chair and the misfortune of the morning seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders.

"I was looking for the handicap ramp. I couldn't find it. Then they took my glasses and I couldn't find much else."

Will hadn't even realized how tightly he was gripping Artie's backpack until he looked down and saw that his knuckles were white. "Who took them?"

Artie shrugged. "Someone in a letterman jacket."

Will let out the breath he had been holding. "Come on. Let's go find that ramp." He took the handles of Artie's wheelchair and began to push him down the sidewalk.

"So, Artie, how are you liking McKinley so far?"

The teenager laughed at the joke and went to push his glasses further up his nose only to realize they were no longer there. Old habits…

"It could be worse."

Will smiled. At least the kid was optimistic. Will had never realized that McKinley only had one handicap ramp into the school, nor did he realize just how far away it was.

"What class are you looking forward to the most?"

"Band. I know it's not really a class, but I like the guitar."

"Really? So do I." Will finally came upon the ramp and guided Artie's wheelchair up its cement incline. "It might not be as exciting as Band, but trust me, Spanish isn't all that bad either."

Artie laughed. "I'll try and make it next time."

"Which class are you supposed to be in now?" Will pulled up to a stop as they entered the hallway.

"I'm not entirely sure. I can't read my schedule." Artie fumbled with the zipper on his backpack and felt around for the piece of paper.

"Here, allow me." Will took the backpack from him and pulled the schedule out. "It looks like English with Mrs. Collins. That's down here." Will gripped the handles again and pushed Artie to Room 104. "Does your Dad have a spare pair of glasses he can bring you?"

"He does, but… I don't really want him to know. He doesn't handle stuff like this very well. It's better to just say I lost them."

"Ah. I see." Will was happy that Artie couldn't see the look of pity that briefly graced his features. "Well, I'll write you a note for your next class. I'll explain that you've misplaced your glasses and that you can't see –

"Anything?"

Will laughed. "I was going to say 'much' but we can go with 'anything."

Artie was quiet for a moment. "Thanks, Mr. Schuester. I appreciate it."

Artie pushed on the wheels and began to move toward the classroom door, but Will stopped him.

"Hey, do you have a spare half hour after school?" Artie nodded. "If you want, we can go over what you missed in Spanish, so you're not behind on your first day."

"That'd be great, Mr. Schue."

Not even a full school day down and Artie had already adopted Will's nickname. Will liked him already.

When the bell rang signaling the end of second period, Artie rolled out of Mrs. Collins' English class to find Will waiting for him.

"Where to next?"

Artie wordlessly handed over the schedule as Will guided him to third period.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The following day, Will made sure to time his arrival with Artie's. He parked close to the handicap ramp and watched as the jocks approached the boy in the wheelchair.

Will sprang out of his car and kept a distance of at least twenty feet behind Artie as he wheeled up the ramp. It was close enough to keep the jocks at bay and far enough away that Artie didn't think he was hovering.

He did this every day of Artie's freshman year. Artie just thought Will liked the parking spot.


	3. Kurt

_Kurt_

Will watched as Kurt high-kicked his way up and down the sidelines, occasionally glancing up into the stands, looking for something.

His eyes met Will's and Will waved. Kurt gave him a wide smile and waved back. Kurt's smile only got wider when his father took his place on the bleachers.

Kurt and the football team: one of those things was not like the other.

"_Making new friends, Kurt?" _

Looking back on that first day, Will knew something was off. He knew he should have stopped and investigated as they stood side by side next to the dumpster.

People say you can't change the past but when you're pacing back and forth in a hospital waiting room, "if only's" are all you have for company.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The day was bright and sunny, a stark contrast to the mopey faces that walked McKinley High.

Will sat at the piano, shuffling papers and making hash marks on two songs that had mash-up potential.

Finn wandered in first, Rachel trailing slowly behind bearing the cautious look she had carried since Sectionals, as if the smallest sneeze would crush Finn to pieces.

Will sighed and continued marking the worn paper as the rest of his students filed in. Mercedes was muttering something to Tina and Will heard Kurt's name dropped a few times, but he tuned the rest out.

"All right, guys, how's everybody doing today?"

Those that actually bothered to respond gave him grunts and a few muttered 'fine's.

Will ignored their lackluster response. "Glad to hear it. Wait…" He did the math in his head. "We're missing someone." He gave them another once over. "Where's Kurt?"

He caught Mercedes sharing a look with Tina. "Well?"

Mercedes stepped forward. "No one's seen him."

Rachel's hand shot up. "Not true. He was in my third period English class."

Will nodded, "And my first period Spanish."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Then no one's seen him since lunch."

"Did he go home sick?"

Tina shook her head. "He was feeling fine when I talked to him."

Will shrugged. "Maybe it was something he ate. Look, let's begin and we can fill him in later."

The students were sluggish and the choreography was tricky with one man down, but Will pushed through anyway. If they could all just make it through the end of Thursday, then it would be Friday. He dismissed them fifteen minutes early in his efforts to jump-start the weekend.

Will followed Finn and Puck as they exited the building. He noticed that the boys still kept their distance and limited their conversations to mandatory one word answers, but it was progress. Will pulled his coat tighter around him against the bitter January wind before promptly tripping on something.

Finn stopped and turned. "You all right, Mr. Schue?"

"Yeah," Will said as he reached down and picked up a schoolbag that was lying discarded next to the door. "This looks familiar."

Finn stepped closer to Will and Puck stepped closer to Finn. "I think it's Kurt's." Finn reached in and pulled out a Louis Vuitton leather planner. "Definitely Kurt's."

Will felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn't right. "He's gotta be around here somewhere. He wouldn't just leave his bag here."

Puck finally spoke up from his spot ten feet away. "It looks like he just threw it to the side."

The three men looked at each other and came to a silent agreement. There was no way Kurt would just leave his designer bag in the grass nor would he miss both class and glee without some sort of explanation.

"Finn, check inside. Puck, walk around the school. He's here somewhere."

Remarkably, Finn and Puck did as they were told without argument.

"Kurt!" Will wandered towards the parking lot, Kurt's bag gripped tightly in his hands.

_Kurt and the football team: one of those things was not like the other. _Will knew that the hockey team had been terrorizing the glee kids – he had helped clean up some of the slushie puddles – but no one would ever…

He let the thought trail off. He had no desire whatsoever to complete it.

He tried to remember the morning. Will had seen Kurt in the morning… in the parking lot… by the dumpster… with Karofsky…

_Goddamnit, Schuester._

Will sprinted towards the dumpster, dropping Kurt's bag along the way, and what he saw when he arrived knocked the air from his lungs.

"Oh Christ."

Kurt lay beaten and bloodied amid the garbage bags, his bright clothes torn at the seams. His left eye was swollen shut, his right arm was angled oddly and his usually perfect hair was stained red and matted to his forehead.

"Puck!" Will screamed over his shoulder. He attempted to wake Kurt up by running a hand across his face, but he feared doing more harm than good. "Puck! Help me!"

Puck came sprinting around the side of the building and made a beeline towards the dumpster as Will climbed in next to Kurt as gently as he could. He tossed his phone to Puck and yelled, "Call 911" as Finn exploded out of the side entrance a moment later.

"I heard you yell. Did you find him?"

Will could barely nod as he took Kurt's head in his lap, gently placing two fingers at his neck feeling for a pulse. It was strong and Will hoped his wounds looked worse than they actually were. "Kurt, can you hear me? Come on, Kurt."

"Oh shit," Finn muttered as he finally got to the dumpster. Puck remained quiet as he dialed the numbers into the phone but he paced the pavement like a caged animal.

Tears pricked the corners of Will's eyes as he cradled Kurt's head, urging the boy to wake up. He vaguely heard Puck explaining the situation to the 911 operator as Finn turned and punted a metal trashcan across the lot.

"Can we get him out?" Finn asked.

Will shook his head. "I'm afraid to move him."

"Ambulance will be here in five minutes."

Will nodded and took Kurt's good hand in his own. "Kurt, can you hear me? If you can, squeeze my hand. You don't have to do it hard, just a little bit. Just let me know you're there. "

Will felt the faintest of pressure but it was a squeeze all the same.

"Kurt, it's Mr. Schue." Will licked his lips as he forced his voice to remain steady. Kurt needed strength and Will would be damned if couldn't provide at least that. "The ambulance is on its way. You're gonna be just fine." He brushed Kurt's sticky hair away from his forehead.

Kurt groaned and moved his head to the side, his right eye fluttering open and landing on Will.

"Good boy." Will brushed more hair out of Kurt's face and he could have sworn that he saw a slight smile grace Kurt's boyish features before it was replaced with a grimace."

"Don't leave."

"I won't. I promise." The shake in Will's voice was impossible to mask now.

"Who did it?" Puck continued his feral pacing as hands balled up into fists at his sides.

Finn placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Not now, man."

Will continued to gently rock Kurt back and forth, whispering words of encouragement into his ear, even if he himself didn't believe all of them.

He failed. He saw the signs. He should have known.

Will heard the sirens in the distance. When they arrived, the EMTs extracted Kurt from the dumpster and placed him on the gurney.

"Who's coming?" The EMT asked.

"I am," Will answered without thinking. He hopped into the ambulance and told Puck and Finn to follow them. He continued to hold Kurt's hand even as the EMTs attached IVs to his arms. He was forced to let go when they arrived at the hospital.

"They're going to take you now, but I'll be right here when you get out," Will said as they wheeled him out of the ambulance and into the ER.

He paced in the waiting room until Puck and Finn caught up to him.

"I need my phone." Will monotonously told Puck as he held out his hand. "I have to call his father."

Will had made many phone calls in his tenure as a teacher. He informed parents of detentions, suspensions, failing grades, and general misconduct. But he never ever had to make a call like this.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and pressed his fingers to his watering eyes as Kurt's father broke down on the other end of the line.

Five minutes later, Burt Hummel blew through the ER doors demanding to know where his son was. Twenty minutes later, half of glee had joined them.

It wasn't easy feeling so helpless. Will watched doctors come and go, nurses trade old IV bags for new, and stretchers come in full and leave empty. They at least had something to do. The guilt Will felt was like a boulder on his chest. It made him nauseated. If only Will had opened his eyes. If only he had paid attention to Kurt instead of watching Emma daintily get out of her car. If only…

He stood up straighter as a doctor exited Kurt's room and spoke in hushed tones with Mr. Hummel. The doctor placed a comforting hand on Burt's shoulder and Will stopped breathing. _No._

But there was no crying, there was no scene. Perhaps Kurt really was okay. Burt Hummel slowly walked towards Will and stood mere inches from his face.

"He has a broken arm and a fractured cheek bone. Other than that he's…. well, 'fine' isn't really the right word now is it." Burt's voice became more clipped the longer he spoke. "Schuester, how did this…? This was happening right under your goddamn nose. Why didn't you do anything?"

Will honestly couldn't answer him. _I didn't know_ just didn't seem to cover it and his silence brought Burt Hummel's fist across his jaw.

Will hit the tiled floor with a thud. His shame kept him down a few more moments until Burt turned his back on him. He didn't want to stand up under the scrutiny of Burt's gaze knowing that his own son couldn't do the same.

Three and a half hours. That's how long it took them to notice Kurt was gone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Will returned home, he didn't bother putting ice on his face. Ice was one comfort he didn't deserve.


	4. Puck

_Puck_

There was a crash as Finn went flying into a music stand and Will stilled his fingers on the guitar.

Puck needed patience as much as Finn needed rhythm.

"What does your coach tell you about hitting?"

"You charge the pitcher. Bring the bat."

It wasn't quite the answer he was going for, but it was a valiant effort on Puck's part. Will didn't know him well, but he was willing to overlook his ulterior motives if it meant having him a part of the group. _Something about cougars…_

Within two minutes, Will had Puck swaying behind him swinging an imaginary baseball bat. Within five, Will had his respect.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The radio blasted a top 40 hit and Will lazily hummed along. He spent the last four hours working on choreography for regionals, which was approaching faster than he'd like. He ran out of coffee an hour into it and didn't stop to get more – a choice he was thoroughly regretting.

He squinted his eyes against the lights of an oncoming car and yawned loudly. His own headlights lit up the trees that towered over the road in the dark Ohio night. Something caught the reflection somewhere up to the right and Will slowed in case Mrs. Robertson's cat decided to dash across the street again. Her cats had a habit of doing that; she'd already gone through five.

As Will's car got closer, he realized that it was not some_thing _but some_one_ perched on the edged of the curb.

Will recognized the familiar faux-hawk and slammed on the brakes. Putting the car in reverse, he backed up until the teenager came in line with his passenger side window. Puck sat on the curb, knees up against his chest, elbows resting on top. He looked none the worse for wear, but Will hopped out and walked closer just in case.

"Puck?"

The teenager barely looked up when he answered, "'Sup, Mr. Schue."

Will squinted at him. "Are you all right?"

"Peachy."

Will knew Puck was a man of few words and when he wasn't tight-lipped, he was bitingly sarcastic. Will wondered which side Puck would decide to show tonight.

"What are you doing sitting on the curb?"

"It's comfortable." _Sarcastic it is. _

Will sighed and plopped down next to him on the cold, hard concrete. He shifted and nudged Puck, chuckling.

"Comfortable' is not exactly the first word that comes to mind."

His quip went all but ignored.

"Your car's running, Mr. Schue."

"I know."

They sat in silence a few moments more and Will studied him out of the corner of his eye. Puck was the antithesis of Finn. Finn would wander into Will's office and talk about whatever current mess he was in and how it made him feel. Puck kept everything bottled up inside and hid behind a carefully practiced poker face. Will was still waiting for the day when someone uncorked the bottle. Puck was a ticking time bomb.

"Is it Rachel?"

Puck looked up sharply. "Why would it be Rachel?"

"Well correct me if I'm wrong, but you are camped out on the curb in front of Rachel's house." Will turned and looked at the large facade to prove his point.

"It's not Rachel."

Puck fell silent again. Will could see he wasn't needed and even if he was, Puck had no interest in his help.

"Well, as long as you're okay." Will clapped him on the back and stood. "Take it easy. It's gettin' late."

Will made it halfway to his car before he heard Puck's voice.

"Quinn's in there."

Will stopped and turned around. "What?"

"It's not Rachel, it's Quinn. She's been staying here ever since Finn found out."

"Oh." Will wandered over and returned to his position on the curb.

Puck glared at him. "Are you just going to sit there?"

Will countered. "Are _you_? Have you even tried knocking?"

"She doesn't want to see me," Puck muttered as he leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. It was as if all of Puck's confidence – confidence that Will admired – went out the door with that one confession. Will sighed and stared as lights were systematically flicked off in the house across the street. He knew what it felt like to have someone you want to be with, you _need_ to be with, not want to see you. It's enough to drive a man mad.

"But you don't want to hear my shit."

Will broke out of his train of thought and saw that Puck had straightened up. The cockiness was back.

"Sure I do. It's what I'm here for."

Puck rolled his eyes and stood. "Look, you don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"This. Pretend that you care. You can let go of that 'teacher guilt."

"Puck, I don't - "

"You don't want to help me and you don't need to help me. I'm fine."

Puck began to pace and Will rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, because 'fine' people sit on cold curbs at 10:30 at night."

Puck stopped dead, but kept his eyes on the ground. Will watched as his fists opened and closed at his sides. "I know he's your favorite. And I screwed him over. So just drop it."

Will felt like he had been slapped. "Finn?"

Will took Puck's silence as confirmation and Will's heart broke a little for the teenager standing in front of him, who looked more like a little boy than anything else at the moment.

"Puck, I don't have favorites."

"Bullshit." Puck began to pace again. "You should be pissed at me. You should hate me. I hurt your golden boy."

"I'm not pissed. And I certainly don't hate you," Will said quietly.

"Then why haven't you been there for me like you've been there for Finn?" Puck's yell echoed in the empty night.

Will stood and took a tentative step closer. "You never seemed to need me."

"You don't know that." Puck's gaze seared through Will, but Will saw right through him. Puck was right. He didn't need Will's help or his advice. After all, this was a situation that Will couldn't fix. Puck just needed him to be there. So Will stood and took his anger.

"Puck, what's this really about?"

The simple question finally set off Puck's ticking time bomb.

"That's my kid! That's my baby in there! And I can't…" His chest heaved as he trailed off. "She won't let me…" Again, he couldn't finish his sentence. Puck bit his trembling lip so hard, Will thought he would draw blood.

Will silently reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Puck resisted but Will held firm, not letting him out of his grip. Puck attempted to pull away, but Will pulled him closer. Slowly Puck gave in, his head crashing against Will's chest as the confident young man fell away to reveal the lost, scared boy beneath.

Puck shook with sobs as he gripped the back of Will's shirt in his fists. Will gently patted the back of Puck's shaved head.

"You're gonna be okay." Puck shook his head. "Yeah, you will."

Puck pulled away and hurriedly wiped his swollen eyes. Will kept his hand on his shoulder.

"I know you think I have favorites, but I don't. I know all of you. I care about _all_ of you. I know that Kurt is proud, Finn is vulnerable, Rachel is determined, and you are strong." Puck sniffed and finally met Will's eyes. "I'm not gonna tell you that everything's fine, because it's not. But I will tell you that you will get through this. Because that's one thing I know for sure."

Puck cleared his throat but it did nothing to stop the tears that spilled over his cheeks again.

Will squeezed his shoulder. "You hear me?"

Puck nodded. "I hear ya." After a moment of silence, he smiled. "Don't tell anyone about this."

Will laughed. "Our secret." He finally let his hand drop from Puck's shoulder. "You all right?"

"I will be." And for the first time, Puck seemed to say those three words like he believed them. He gestured to Will's still idling car. "You're gonna run out of gas."

"If I do, you can help me push it to the station." Will walked around the car and opened the door. "Need a ride?"

"Nah, I walked."

Will didn't tell him that it was late and that he shouldn't be wandering around. Instead, he nodded and slid into the driver's seat, rolling down the passenger side window.

"Hey, Puck?"

Puck leaned his elbows on the door. "Yeah?"

"Try knocking. Trust me, it works."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day, Will drove the usual route on his way home from school, keeping his eyes peeled for darting cats as he turned onto Harrison Street.

As he passed Rachel's house, Will slowed and discreetly pulled to a stop a few houses down. In his rearview mirror, he watched as Puck made his way up the walkway and paced back and forth on the porch.

"Come on, Puck," Will muttered.

Puck knocked.

Quinn answered.


	5. Mercedes

_Mercedes_

Will watched with growing horror as Rachel's leg kicked higher and higher towards Mercedes' nose.

"Whoa, whoa! You try to bust _my_ face again? And I _will_ cut you."

Will sighed. All she had to do was bring that vocal enthusiasm to "Freak Out" and Will would be a happy man.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Will was having a good day. His wife was pregnant, Acafellas was flourishing, and his car made it to work without stalling. There was a bounce in his step as he hummed a tune on his way to Figgins' office.

"Schue, we seem to have a bit of a situation," Figgins said as he gestured to Mercedes looking ashamed on one side of the room and Kurt looking livid on the other.

Correction: Will _was _having a good day. The following conversation was a bit of a blur but the words "gay-vention" and "windshield" managed to squeeze through the fog of his under-caffeinated brain.

"It happened during the glee club car wash. Therefore, I'm putting this in your hands."

Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Let me guess, yours are tied?"

Figgins glared at him but said nothing. Sighing, Will turned to his students and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

Mercedes offered to pay for the damage before the request was even out of Will's mouth. Kurt crossed both his arms and his legs as he mulled the offer over.

"Fine. But I'm not going to Fall Formal with you."

Mercedes' jaw dropped and her eyes glassed over. Will's heart broke a little bit for her.

"What do you mean you're not going with me? Kurt, you promised!"

"That was before you sent my car a love note written on a brick!"

"Who says either of you even get to go?" Will raised his eyebrows in a challenge and Kurt immediately jumped to the defense of all that was holy about organized dances.

"Come on, Mr. Schue. Think of the streamers, the balloons… the _tulle_!"

Will held up his hand in an attempt to stop Kurt's passionate but unnecessary sermon.

"Mercedes, pay for the damage. Kurt, … whether you take Mercedes to Formal or not is not my business, but just go easy on each other. Us glee kids gotta stick together." He placed a hand on their shoulders and squeezed. "Got it?"

Both murmured a disgruntled, "Yes, Mr. Schue."

Will glanced over the desk at Figgins. "Satisfactory?"

"As usual, Schue." Will nodded and left the office, the door clicking shut behind him.

_Fall Formal._ He had forgotten that they were halfway into October already. Counting out the math on his fingers, he realized that he was due up for chaperone duty. He could have sworn he felt his stomach drop a few inches.

"Mr. Schue, wait up!"

Will turned and hiked his bag higher on his shoulder as Mercedes caught up to him.

"What is it, Mercedes?"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I never should have done that."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

"I know but…" she trailed off and he watched her fidget with her gold necklace – a vulnerability she rarely let show. "I know you're disappointed."

Will nodded. "You're better than that, Mercedes."

She hung her head. He sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Look things happen all the time that we wish we could take back. Trust me, I know. Sometimes the only thing you can do is pick up and move forward." He squeezed her shoulder and let his hand drop. "Cheer up. You've got the Formal on Friday."

"Kurt won't take me."

Will snorted, "Who needs boys?" He winked at her and continued on his way to his classroom.

Before he was out of earshot, though, he heard Mercedes yell, "Hey, Tina! What are you doing Friday?"

Will couldn't help but smile. His mother always told him he was meant to have a daughter. He knew way too much about girls.

Friday approached with a rapidity that Will didn't think was possible in Ohio. After debating the merits of a red tie versus a blue and pleading with Terri to join him, he gave up and arrived solo to the McKinley High gymnasium.

Orange, red, and yellow streamers hung from the ceiling creating a canopy of harvest colors and pumpkins and gourds dotted the circular tables. He withstood 35 minutes of the vibrating base and flashing lights before he yelled in Emma's ear that he needed to step outside.

Inhaling deeply, he squinted his eyes in the harsh light of the hallway and shook the fuzzy feeling from his head. He never was one for dances – an odd fact considering his penchant for busting a move.

A noise up ahead broke his train of thought and he peered around the corner in time to see Karofsky jog to the end of the hall and out of sight. A lone person rigidly remained in the corridor with their back to him. Will inched closer and recognized the familiar silhouette.

"Mercedes?"

If it was possible, her body tensed even more at the sound of his voice.

"Are you all right?" As he walked around to her front, his jaw dropped. "Oh, Mercedes."

She stood before him, her hair beautifully twisted on the crown of her head, her violet dress gracefully brushing the linoleum floor, the red slushie dripping from her chin onto the fragile silk.

"Karofsky, you son of a bitch." Will muttered under his breath. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and gently began to wipe the frozen drink off of Mercedes' face. He didn't comment on the tears falling onto her cheeks.

"Come with me."

She jumped when he placed a hand on her back and gently steered her towards the girls' bathroom. He knocked on the door and yelled out, "Anyone in here?" When he was met with silence, he kicked it open and ushered her inside.

He watched as she drifted towards the sink as if on autopilot, turning the warm water on and running her fingers beneath the spigot.

"Use cold water. Warm water won't get the stain out," he said as he handed her some paper towels.

"Mr. Schue," she began, her voice hollow, "a miracle couldn't get this stain out." She finally let her eyes glance from the sink to the mirror, fully assessing the damage.

"I know it was Karofsky. He won't get away with it. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

Mercedes tensed again. "Don't. If you talk to him tomorrow, I'll pay for it the day after."

At those words, something took hold in Will's chest and didn't let go. He couldn't just let some punk kid walk away without punishment. Even a slap on a wrist was better than nothing. But Will looked at the way the tears had started falling down Mercedes' face again, mixing with the red tinted water that swirled down the drain. He wouldn't tempt this fate on her again.

Will picked up a wad of paper towels and began to help. "I'm sorry this happened."

"Not your fault." Mercedes shrugged.

"But still," he tilted her chin up and wiped the sticky substance where it had started dripping down her neck as she tended to her dress. "No one should have to go through this."

"It's high school. Shit happens," she responded bluntly. "But you never had to deal with stuff like this did you. You were popular."

Will flushed and felt shamed into silence.

"You're a good guy, Mr. Schue, but sometimes even you can't fix everything. As much as you might want to."

Mercedes had him pegged and Will knew it. She managed a smile for him as they wiped off the last of the slushie from her face. Her dress was another story, though.

"I'm sorry to say, Mercedes, but I think that's as good as it's gonna get." Will stepped back and hopped on the counter, eyeing their progress.

"It's all right, Mr. Schue. I wasn't really looking forward to the dance anyway. Not after Kurt bailed, at least."

"Mercedes, you're a beautiful young woman with a serious set of pipes. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And I mean that." He slid off the counter and offered her his hand. "Come on, let's go join the party."

She grabbed his wrist. "I don't want to go out just yet."

Will nodded and a mischievous grin lit up his face. "Well, the music is so loud, I'm pretty sure you can hear it in Illinois. We could just start our own dance party right here."

"In the girls' bathroom?" Mercedes raised her eyebrows at him.

"Why not? I'll go steal a pumpkin and we'll be all set." The distant beat of "Gold Digger" echoed down the hall. "Come on, Mercedes, they're playing your tune."

After a moment of reluctance, she joined in as Jamie Foxx wailed.

"Keep that up. I'll be right back." Will laughed as he disappeared out the door and jogged down the hallway.

Turning towards the gym once more, he grabbed Kurt who was sulking by the door.

"Kurt, go to the girls' bathroom."

Kurt snorted. "Right, like I've never heard that one before."

"Just do it," Will yelled as he immersed himself in the noise. After tracking down Finn, Rachel, Tina and Artie, Will took Emma's hand in his left and a pumpkin in his right and headed back down the hallway.

"Will, where are we going?" He skidded to a halt outside the girls' bathroom. "Absolutely not. Nuh uh. No."

"It's just a bathroom. You go in here everyday."

"Yes, armed with sanitizing wipes and Lysol!"

Will pulled a packaged travel wipe out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I grabbed this as I left the house. I thought you could use it. Now you have no excuses."

He pushed the door open and dragged her inside. The lights had been turned off but Finn had stolen one of the strobe lights, which was bouncing off the mirrors and tiles. The glee kids belted out the chorus of the Britney Spears song that echoed off the walls. Rachel and Tina jumped up and down, Finn spun Artie around in circles, and Mercedes and Kurt danced in the corner, all bitterness seemingly forgotten. In the darkness, you couldn't make out the stain on Mercedes' dress.

The amount of joy and laughter in that tiny bathroom brought a smile to Will's face.

"Mr. Schue! You brought us a pumpkin!" Mercedes yelled over the music.

He held it above his head and placed it reverently on the counter next to the sink. "I told you I would."

Mercedes danced away from Kurt and pulled Will down so she could whisper in his ear. "Thanks for everything, Mr. Schue."

"Anytime, Mercedes."

By the end of the night, Rachel broke her heel, Will had spilled punch on his tie, and Kurt had ripped his shirt. The red blotch on Mercedes' dress was immaterial. It was two hours before anyone in the girls' bathroom realized that the gym had gotten surprisingly silent. They eventually stumbled out of the school with sore feet, hoarse voices, and five pumpkins between them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mercedes never saw Will grab Karofsky by the shoulder and steer him none too gently into his classroom the following Monday. She never heard the thinly veiled threat Will spelled out for the hockey player nor did she see how pale Karofsky was when he finally exited Will's classroom.

While the rest of the hockey team continued to terrorize the glee club throughout the year, she had always wondered why Karofsky never bothered her again.

She figured he had just gotten bored with her.


	6. Quinn

_Quinn_

Will clinked his slushie with his students' and stood back as Finn proposed a toast. His eyes scanned the room wondering why they were one blond head short.

And then he found her. She lingered on a lone stool, separating herself from the rest of the group, jamming the plastic straw violently into her frozen drink.

"You okay, Quinn?"

"Do I look okay?"

Will listened as she spoke of her devastation at being kicked off the Cheerios and the inevitable slushie bath she was bound to get every morning.

"That's okay if that happens, Quinn, because there are eleven of your friends, right here, who are going to be more than happy to help clean you off."

Will had never had a "slushie facial," as she called it, but he gladly took one for the team if it meant seeing her light up with joy as she threw a slushie square in his face.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The end of the year had come quickly and before Will could languish in summer break, he had to endure parent-teacher conferences – a biannual task that he loved and loathed in equal measure. Most of the time, he got the understanding parents, the parents that were open to feedback and listened as Will best described their child's strengths and weaknesses in the classroom. Then there were the others whose children could do no wrong, who called Will a failure because he couldn't get their son or daughter to stop writing inappropriate messages on the whiteboard. According to those parents, the children just needed to "express themselves."

Will wandered into the music room and rubbed his eyes as he dropped his folder on top of the piano. Something jumped to his right and he spun around so quickly, he knocked the portfolio onto the keys.

"Quinn?" He thought he saw her rub a hand across her eyes, but by the time he stepped closer, the neutral mask she had been practicing diligently for weeks was set firmly in place.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Mr. Schue. I just needed… a moment."

Will shoved his hands in his pockets, but didn't step any closer. "Understandable. Well, just give me a minute and I'll be out of your way."

He headed into his office to collect some sheet music and slid it into the folder when he emerged once more. He swung his bag over his shoulder and was heading for the door when her voice stopped him. It was small but clear.

"Don't go."

He turned back to her. "What?"

"Don't go. Please." He watched as she inhaled shakily. "Everyone keeps running away from me. No one's bothered to ask me if I actually _want_ to be alone."

He gently lowered his bag back to the floor. "Do you?"

She shook her head, "No."

"Okay then." He left his bag in the middle of the room and took a seat beside her. "Do you want to talk or just sit?"

"Just sit."

"Okay."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Will could feel her shaking beside him.

"Quinn?" He placed his arm around her. "Do you want me to go?"

"How did it feel, Mr. Schue?"

He shook his head, not understanding.

"How did it feel when your wife took your baby girl away?"

With her words ringing in the silent air, Will felt as though Quinn had taken all the breath from his lungs.

"Because now I know how it feels." Her voice remained strong, despite the tears that ran down her face. "And since we're the only two people in this school right now that know how it feels, I need you to sit here for just a moment. Because only you know how difficult it is for me to go back into that hallway."

Will didn't know what to say to that. Of course he knew how difficult it was. Everyone in Lima knew his wife had lied about their baby. And he had to walk the halls of the school and the aisles of the supermarket with prying eyes constantly tracking him and hushed whispers lingering in his wake.

They were silent for another minute before Will cleared his throat. "It felt like someone had taken a dull shovel and dug out a hole in my chest." He placed his hand over his heart. "Right here. And whenever I thought about her… a 'her' that never really existed, the shovel dug deeper, took more from me. Eventually the shovel can't dig anymore. It's taken all it can."

Out of the corner of his head, he saw Quinn nod. "Yes, that's exactly how it feels."

Silence descended again. The bell rang and the din of students shuffling from class to class grew louder.

"I can't go back out there just yet." She reached up and brushed another wayward tear from her face.

"No one's making you."

Quinn looked down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "No one will even look at me."

"I'm looking at you."

She laughed a bitter laugh. "I'm a mess."

He gave a wry smile in return. "We all are."

Will watched as Quinn swallowed hard, her throat working to spit out the words she so desperately needed to confide.

"I know where she is."

Will's eyebrows rose. "The baby?"

Quinn nodded. "I know who has her."

"But I thought it was - "

"A closed adoption? It was." Her neutral mask slid into place again, but Will could see Quinn's heartbreak seep through. "People talk in Lima. The social worker told the nurse, who told the receptionist, who told Puck's mother, who told Puck, who told me…. Or something like that. I lost track of the grapevine." Quinn shook her head and more tears fell. "She's twenty minutes away. In Hume."

The anger that Will felt surprised him. As if Quinn didn't have enough to worry about, she now had the knowledge that, to see her baby, she need only hop on the interstate.

"Her name is Lucy. It's not the name I picked out." A sob broke through Quinn's resolve. "But I like it." Quinn looked up at him with watery eyes. "Did you name your daughter, Mr. Schue?"

Will nodded but kept silent, his throat unusually tight. He had not uttered that name since the night that changed everything. He wasn't ready to start just yet.

"I didn't want to name her. I knew what was going to happen and I was trying not to…" she trailed off.

"Get attached?" Will offered. Quinn nodded. "But you couldn't help it." Quinn shook her head and leaned into him.

"How do you not get attached to someone who's literally a part of you?"

He wrapped his arm around her again. "I'm still trying to answer that question."

"It hurts, Mr. Schue."

"I know it does." He squeezed her harder.

"Does it get better?"

"Little by little. You gotta take it one day at a time. Some days are better than others."

"Today's a bad day." Quinn's voice was muffled against his sweater.

Will nodded against her head. "Yes it is."

"I'm sorry."

Will leaned back and tipped her chin so she looked him in the eye. "For what?"

"For bringing all this up. I know it's not easy for you."

Will sighed. "Like you said, I'm the only one that knows how you feel." He squeezed her hand. "You're not alone… no matter how many people run away from you."

She cracked a smile. "I'm not that scary."

Will chuckled. "You used to be."

Quinn's smile slowly faded and Will feared he had said something wrong. "I'm not that girl anymore."

"I'm not the same boy I was in high school either. Everybody grows up." He ruffled her hair. "You just grew up a little faster than most." He stood up and held out his hand to her. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"A day like this calls for ice cream."

"But I have class."

"Which one?"

"Calculus."

"You know, no one actually uses Calculus. That's why God made calculators. Let's go. I'll write you a note."

Will ushered her towards the door and flicked off the lights.

"Mr. Schue? My parents won't be making a conference appointment with you."

Will sighed heavily beside her. "I know." They hadn't scheduled one in the Fall and he wasn't holding his breath for next year, either. "But we can discuss your Spring semester performance over some rocky road."

"Strawberry."

"Deal."

Over the next few months, Quinn occasionally went missing but Will always found her: in the music room, the library, the gym, the park. He would sit down next to her without saying a word, waiting silently until she was ready to move again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Quinn hiked up the bleachers, she pulled her coat tighter around her and sat next to Will as he stared at the 50-yard line. He acknowledged her presence by scooting over to make room for her.

"You canceled glee."

He shrugged. "I had other matters to attend to."

"It's been a year since you found out, hasn't it." Quinn's remark was frank and Will flinched at the words. He had hoped that if no one mentioned it, the unhappy anniversary would sail by unnoticed.

He nodded silently as Quinn followed his gaze to the white paint marking up the green grass. She scooted closer, closing the gap between them. "Caroline was the name I picked out. If I was going to keep her, I would have named her Caroline… Puck doesn't even know that."

Will felt the words choking his throat, the words he had held hostage for twelve months. In the realization that he relied on Quinn just as much as she relied on him, the words came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Katharine. Her name was Katharine."

They continued to stare over the football field before Quinn stood up and held out her hand. "Today was a good day."

"Does this mean we can't get ice cream?"

"Oh we're getting ice cream." She hauled him to his feet. "I'll even let you get rocky road."


	7. Tina

**Thanks for sticking with this! I'm sorry it's late. I had a little trouble with our girl Tina. Not to worry, Finn and Rachel are already under construction. **** Again, reviews are always, always appreciated. xx**

_Tina_

Will sighed and tried not to roll his eyes when Rachel accused him, yet again, of ruining her career. She was a sophomore in high school. Will wasn't sure exactly what "career" she was talking about, but apparently his decision to deny her the role of Maria was catastrophic on every level.

"That was great, Tina. Good job." He clapped his hands.

"You don't have to say that. I was ssssharp. I ccccan't do this."

"Hey, hey look at me. Have you noticed the more confident you are, the less you stutter?"

She shared a smile with him.

"I need you to be great at regionals. To do that, you've got to know that you can do this."

_And you can do this. I know you can._

Tina backed away from his grasp. "You have to give this song to Rachel."

Will's heart sunk as he watched her walk away from him, blue hair swaying back and forth.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Will smiled as he walked down the hallway. His kids performed wonderfully in wheelchairs, no one broke a bone, and the school was getting new handicap ramps. He stopped by the choir room and flicked the lights off, frowning. He could have sworn that he had already done that, but he shrugged and was about to move on when a noise drew his attention to the back corner.

"Hello?" Will stepped into the room.

He was answered with what clearly was a hiccup followed by a sniffle.

"Hello?" He climbed up the steps and looked down into the space between the risers and the wall.

"Tina."

She looked up at him, biting her lower lip, as eye makeup marred her face.

"Tina, what happened?"

She shook her head and dropped her face back into her knees, hiccupping again. Will jumped from the tallest riser, sat on the floor, and pulled his knees into his chest, mirroring her.

"You can talk to me, you know. That's why I'm here." Again she remained silent save for the occasional sniffle. "And if you don't feel comfortable talking to me, there's always Miss Pillsbury."

"I can't talk to Miss Pillsbury. She always thinks I'm going to get eyeliner on her chair… or something like that."

Will couldn't help but crack a smile. "Yes, well, I think we both know that Miss Pillsbury doesn't handle germs very well." His eyes went wide as he realized how that could be misconstrued. "Not that you have germs, I mean. I'm sure you're very clean." _Nice, Schuester._

He cleared his throat. "Is it the wheelchair number?"

At the mention of wheelchairs, Tina burst out sobbing, causing Will to jump.

"Whoa, whoa. I didn't mean anything by…." He trailed off and hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn't know Tina well – not as well as Rachel or Finn or even Kurt at this point. It was a fact he wasn't proud about.

"Look, I know Tina Turner isn't everyone's cup of tea, but we can work around it."

_Hiccup. _"It's not the number."

"Then… what – ?" Will paused mid-question, a sudden realization hitting him. "Tina, you haven't stuttered at all in the last five minutes."

She froze, her face turning ashen.

"I forget when I'm upset."

"You forget to what?"

Tina inhaled deeply and finally met his eyes. "Stutter."

Will leaned back, mouth hanging slightly open. "You mean it's…"

"Fake. Yeah." The blush that graced her face bloomed furiously.

Will closed his mouth and leaned forward. "But why?"

"I don't like speaking."

"You're doin' fine so far." Will held up his hand and pulled Tina off the floor, depositing her on one of the risers.

"Well, I don't have a problem speaking to you."

Will smirked. "Really? Because you don't do it all that often."

Tina merely shrugged. "It's a public thing."

Will sat down beside her. "Does anyone know?"

Tina's lower lip trembled at the question. "Artie knows."

"I guess he didn't take it very well." It wasn't a question.

She shook her head. "No. No he didn't."

Will had seen the way they looked at each other. The "longing from afar" look was one he knew well. They remained silent for a few more moments.

"It's all right if you don't understand, Mr. Schue. My own parents don't get it."

Will sighed. He might not understand the eyeliner or the dyed hair or the fishnet gloves, but he understood the feeling of helplessness. No matter how hard you try, or how badly you want it, you just can't change how terrifying being vulnerable is.

He cleared his throat. "You know, when I was younger… four or five, I think… my grandfather would constantly ask me questions, quiz me. I think he liked to see how much I knew, how many things I could remember. It was his way of bonding before I was old enough to throw a baseball… Well, I would get so flustered that I would stutter. Then I would get frustrated when I stuttered and eventually I stopped speaking altogether."

Tina's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yep. My parents even sent me to therapy for it. Then, once I was cured, they couldn't get me to shut up. I was singing Sondheim all over the house."

A laugh escaped before Tina sobered up. "My parents sent me to therapy, too."

"Well, look at that." He playfully nudged her shoulder with his. "I guess we do have something in common."

"Please don't tell anyone else."

"I won't," he promised. "In the meantime, I want you to do me a favor."

Tina sniffed and wiped her eyes, smearing mascara on the back of her hand. "Of course."

"I want you to work on something."

Tina's eager attitude dissolved and she immediately became apprehensive.

"Relax, I'm not asking you to give the State of the Union," he said as he rummaged around in his bag. "Here."

He handed her a photocopied excerpt from Pygmalion. "It's my students' homework." Tina looked at him questioningly and he shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a fan of Shaw. They have to translate that into Spanish."

"Mr. Schue, are you expecting me to learn Spanish?"

He laughed. "No. I want you to read this out loud."

Will visibly saw the tension settle back into her shoulders. "Now?"

"No, not now. At home, alone, in front of the mirror. You can work up to reading it to someone you trust, like Mercedes - "

"Or you."

Will felt his face flush. "Or me… Or Artie."

Tina slouched. "I don't think Artie wants to hear anything from me, Shaw or not."

Will placed a hand on her shoulder. "He'll come around. Us boys always do. Just ask Professor Higgins."

"Who?"

Will tapped the paper. "A professor of phonetics. He knows his stuff." He smiled and stood, lifting his bag over his shoulder. As he headed for the door, Will realized that he learned more about Tina in the past fifteen minutes than he had over the past fifteen weeks. He turned back around once more and saw her whispering the words on the paper to herself. He couldn't help the smile that exploded across his face.

"Tina?"

"Hm?" She glanced up.

"Don't ever think that you have to hide behind something that's not real. I know you. The confidence is in there somewhere." He chuckled, "I mean, who else would have the guts to sing 'I Kissed a Girl' complete with inappropriate hand gestures at a high school glee audition."

Tina blushed again and dipped her head. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Will laughed. "No worries. Trust me, I've seen far worse."

Will turned to go again, but Tina's voice stopped him. "Thanks for everything, Mr. Schue."

"Anytime."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took Tina two days to recite the lines to herself and three more before she did it in front of a mirror.

It took her one week to perform them in front of Mr. Schue and two weeks to do it without stuttering.

A day after that, she found an anthology of Shaw plays mysteriously placed in her bag during glee rehearsal.

In the midst of shedding her shell, Artie approached Tina out of the blue and offered to read Higgins's lines while she read Liza's. She suspected that the restoration of her relationship with Artie, along with the Shaw anthology, was Mr. Schuester's doing, but she never asked him.

And when McKinley High announced that the new Spring musical would be "My Fair Lady," Tina's was the first name on the audition sheet.


	8. Finn

_Finn_

They had been on parallel journeys for as long as Will could remember: sports, glee, cheerleading girlfriends, failed pregnancies. The last one he wished they didn't share, for both of their sakes.

Finn had seemed so small that day, despite the fact that he towered over Will's own 6 ft stature. He looked more like a lost little boy that the star quarterback as he collapsed into his teacher's arms.

"_Hey. It's okay. It's okay."_

Will blindly flipped the pages in the magazine full of smiling parents and happy babies. Movement to his left drew his eye and he watched as the proud father leaned his head against the expectant mother's belly. Something inside Will's chest tightened as the door over his left shoulder opened. Before he knew it, Finn was going on about fetal mutations.

"Thank you for taking us today. I was too freaked out to drive."

Will, of course, told him it was no problem. Finn slouched down in the seat with a sense of helplessness, making him seem smaller than he actually was. Adoption. Will couldn't imagine the thought of giving his baby away.

"This sucks. You get all of the stress and worry and none of the control."

The door opened again and out stepped Quinn.

"It's cool, Mr. Schue. You wouldn't understand."

Will wished he didn't.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The day started out like any other: alarm, coffee, intentional run-in with Emma, minor explosion with Sue, three classes, lunch, glee, two classes, another minor explosion with Sue, freedom.

Trips to the ER were nowhere on his agenda.

Kurt had come careening into his office at 11:07 yelling something about pain, water, and ruined Ferragamos. Rachel followed him in and translated: Quinn was in labor and her water broke all over Kurt's shoes.

Will's first thought was _Get Quinn to the ER. _His second was, _Where's Finn?_ Although Finn had gotten very good at pretending, Will knew that he was dreading this impending birth almost as much as Quinn was. This baby should have been Finn's. And if Terri had gotten her way, it almost was Will's.

Will jogged down the hall and literally carried Quinn to his car after she collapsed into his arms. Puck jumped into the backseat as everyone else piled into Kurt's SUV, save Finn. He insisted on driving himself.

As soon as Finn got into his car and not Kurt's, Will knew they wouldn't be seeing him anytime soon. He paced the waiting room, hoping to see Finn's tall frame come bounding through the automatic doors, but after an hour, he was still a no-show. With instructions to Rachel to call him if there was an update, Will set off down the maze of halls in search of his student. Rachel's admonishment that they weren't allowed to use cell phones in the hospital fell on deaf ears.

After 30 minutes of searching, Will finally found him.

Finn stood at the end of the hall, looking through a large window. As Will drew closer, he saw rows and rows of pink and blue bundles, nestled snugly in their plastic bassinets.

He cleared his throat. "Making new friends?"

Finn jumped and shoved his hands in his pockets, as if caught sneaking a cookie. He backed away from the window and sat down on a bench in the hallway.

"Shouldn't you be back with Quinn?"

Will sat down next to him. "I think I'll keep you company. Quinn has enough for the moment."

They sat in comfortable silence for the next few minutes. Will knew that if Finn wanted to talk, he would talk. Until then, Will vowed to keep his mouth shut and just be there.

"They're smaller than I thought they'd be."

"Huh?" Will looked at him, confused.

Finn gestured to the window. "The babies. They're really small."

Will smiled. "Well yeah. They are when they first come out."

"I know it can't be easy for you to be here, Mr. Schue."

Will chest tightened. "No. No, it's not. But then again, I'm not exactly alone in that department, am I?"

Finn lowered his head, a tear sneaking down his face. "I just can't be there. Not yet."

"No one's asking you to be, Finn."

Finn let out a bitter laugh. "That's the problem: no one's asking me. No one wants me there and I should have been there." Finn leaned his head back, banging it on the wall. "In another life, I would be." Finn tried to discreetly wipe the tear from his face but another one took its place. "I never liked hospitals."

"Me neither." Will inhaled and the disinfectant burned his nose. Emma would feel at home here. "I fell out of a tree house when I was eight and knocked myself out."

Finn looked up. "Really?"

"Yep. They kept me overnight. It was awful."

"I busted my head open during my first football season. Twelve stitches. My mom freaked out."

"I bet." They fell into companionable silence again, the occasional cry from the babies on the other side of the glass echoing down the hall.

"I didn't want Quinn to give her up."

"I know." Without tearing his eyes from the wall in front of him, Will placed a hand on Finn's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I haven't made it easy on you."

Will leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"With glee and everything. It can't be fun trying to choreograph numbers that always place me and Puck farthest apart, especially since we're the two tallest."

"I work with what I've got."

Finn kept his head leaning against the wall and closed his eyes. "I can't remember if I ever thanked you for telling me to stick with glee."

A wave of guilt settled in Will's stomach. "You don't have to thank me."

"Sure I do. Without glee, I don't know what I would have done when all of this," he gestured around the hospital, "broke." Finn leaned forward, as if making sure Will knew the truth in his words. "I would have lost my mind, Mr. Schue. Glee's kept me sane."

"Well, I have something to tell you. And this is not the time or the place, but since we're on the topic…. Listen, about getting you into glee." Will swallowed hard. "I did something that I'm not proud of. At all."

Finn cocked his head at him, thoroughly confused.

Will held his breath and dug his hands into his knees, willing the words out of his mouth. "I placed the pot in your locker. That was me."

Will waited for the explosion, waited for Finn to tell him that his favorite teacher was just knocked off his pedestal and that no amount of apologies could fix his place in Finn's eyes. And as Will waited for this inevitable reaction, Finn surprised him yet again.

His student merely shrugged, "At this point, I couldn't care less." And then he laughed. "Mr. Schue, does this mean you smoke pot?"

Will was so taken aback by the lack of confrontation that his mouth gaped open for a moment and then he burst out laughing.

"No, Finn. I don't smoke pot."

Finn continued to chuckle. "Because I'm sure that would be a pretty funny sight."

Will shakily released his breath, the weight in the pit of his stomach dissipating.

"So, how long have you been carrying that around?" Finn raised his eyebrow in question.

"Months. Since the day you joined glee."

Finn nudged his shoulder. "No worries, Mr. Schue. We're cool."

Will's phone rang and both men jumped. Will fumbled for a moment before extracting it from his pocket and flipping it open. "Rach? Everything all right?... uh huh… Tell them, I'll be there in a bit." Will clicked the phone shut.

"Well?" Finn was trying to hide his anxiety yet failing miserably.

Will's face broke out into a bittersweet smile. "The newest member of New Directions is 7lbs 2oz and 21 inches long."

Immediately Finn stood up and ran his hand through his hair. "How long do I have?"

Finn's urgency alarmed Will. "For what?"

"To meet her. I wanna meet her before they take her away."

The second those words left Finn's mouth, Will's heart broke.

"You've got time."

Finn took off down the hallway. Will listened as his footsteps faded away and he bowed his head in his hands. The footsteps skidded to a halt and Finn's voice piped up.

"Mr. Schue, I need you to come with me for this. I – I can't do this alone."

Will lifted his head to look at Finn, who looked much smaller silhouetted under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights and surrounded by nothing but white walls.

He stood and walked towards him. "You're not alone."

And Will kept his promise, showing Finn how to properly support the baby's head, holding him when he cried, and never leaving his side even as they wheeled away the baby that should have been his for the last time.

As they left the hospital, Will couldn't offer any words of condolence, but he could attempt words of wisdom. "Don't ever forget her."

And when Finn returned to school the next day, he found the tiniest pink sock he had ever seen sitting in his locker with a note: "_Found this on the floor of the hospital room. Thought you might want it._"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Will and Emma had their first daughter, Will asked Finn to be her godfather.

When Finn had his son some years later, he happily returned the favor.


	9. Rachel

**AN: By the end, you'll realize why I'm making this suggestion, but if anyone wants to see a powerhouse "Everything's Coming Up Roses," might I suggest youtubing "Gypsy Tony Awards" to see Patti LuPone absolutely knock it out of the park. Onto the story… **

_Rachel_

As she justified her reasons for leaving glee, his grip on the ballet bar grew tighter and tighter.

"How is that any different from when you quit glee to form your boy band?"

"Cause I didn't do it out of spite."

She removed her leg from the bar and into first position as he scrutinized himself in the mirror. She was his most talented yet most frustrating student.

"Just admit it, Mr. Schue. You don't like me very much."

He felt a pain in his chest. No student should think that. "That's not true. I am your biggest, and sometimes your _only_, fan."

A look of surprise flitted across her face and he didn't blame her.

Though he spoke the truth, it was a claim that he had yet to prove.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the bass blaring out of his speakers.

A quick glance at his watch told him that she was late. In the three years that he had closely worked with her, Rachel Berry was never late. He glanced at his watch again and sighed. There were few things that would pull him out of bed, away from Emma and their daughter, on a Saturday morning. This was one of them.

He yawned and downed the last of his coffee. He had been in the car for over two hours, honking at motorists on I-75, as he made his way from Lima to Cincinnati.

He probably should have offered her a ride, but no doubt one or both of her fathers would insist on taking her. She didn't know he was coming, anyway. Hell, _he_ didn't even know he was coming until last night at 10:30. He and Rachel had butted heads over many things over the years, but he'd be damned if he missed this.

He turned the radio off as a familiar car pulled into the parking lot. The brunette behind the wheel screeched the car into the nearest open space, threw the gear in park, and slammed the door all while trying to organize her hair into some semblance of order as she balanced what must be a binder of sheet music in her hands.

Will couldn't help but chuckle. Rachel Berry was easily flustered, but being late to her first big audition probably put her over the edge. He didn't exit his car until the auditorium door shut behind her. It was probably for the best that she didn't see him anyway.

Leaving his windows cracked in the mid-summer heat, he locked the car and headed into the auditorium. A poster was propped up on an easel announcing the day's event and, as he approached the open doors, music filtered into the hallway. However, it wasn't Rachel's voice he heard.

Hesitating for a moment, he stuck his head in and saw a panel of important looking people sitting in the audience while a terrified girl sharply sang her way through "All That Jazz."

Will ducked down and took a seat in the last row. The casting director cut the girl off, thanked her for coming, and promptly moved on.

"Next?"

Will held his breath as Rachel walked out, squinting under the bright lights.

"Name?"

"R-rachel Berry."

Will frowned. Rachel Berry never stuttered. She nodded to the pianist and Will steepled his fingers, waiting.

The first few notes of "Everything's Coming Up Roses" began to play and Rachel opened her mouth:

"_I had a dream. A dream about you, baby. It's gonna come true, baby. They think that we're through, but baby…" _Rachel went for the crescendo,_ "You'll be swell - " _And her voice cracked.

Will's heart seemed to stop as Rachel abruptly fell silent, her hand flying to her mouth. The piano trailed off and she stood there, like a frightened child about to be sent to her room.

"I'm so sorry." Her head whipped from the pianist to the casting director. "C-can I try that again?"

"Ms. Berry - "

"I realize that this is a 'one strike, you're out' kind of business, but I _know_ I can sing this. Please."

Silence. Will held his breath.

"Fine."

Will exhaled as the casting director finished speaking, "We were going to take five anyway. Be ready in four."

"Yes, sir."

Rachel scampered off the stage and Will quickly made his way out of theatre and down the hall to the backstage entrance.

It was a zoo-parade. Girls fanned their faces with their sheet music and ran scales not caring that everyone was listening. Some were on cell phones in tears to presumably their mothers while others were trying not to be sick by chugging Imodium and Pepto Bismal.

Finally, he saw her. She leaned against the far wall, her arms limp at her sides. She stared straight ahead, not seeing or hearing anyone. This shell-shocked girl was not the Rachel Berry he knew. The Rachel Berry he knew proudly posted videos online featuring show-stopping Broadway vocals despite the harsh messages she was guaranteed to receive in return.

He stood directly in front of her, yet still she did not acknowledge him.

"Rachel?"

Finally, she glanced up. "Mr. Schue?"

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." He gently grabbed her arm and steered to the quietest corner he could find.

"You came all the way to Cincinnati? For me?"

"Of course. Once a glee director, always a glee director, right?"

She smiled but it quickly dissolved as a tear ran down her cheek.

"I wish you hadn't."

"What? Why?"

"I blew it, Mr. Schue. I cracked."

"And if I heard them correctly, they're giving you another shot."

"You _heard_?"

He grinned sheepishly. "I was sitting in the back."

She buried her face in her hands.

"Hey, hey," he said as he gently pulled them away. "Listen to me."

Her eyes flicked up to his before returning to her shoes.

"I know you can do this. I know you can sing that song. And they know it too, or else they wouldn't have given you another shot."

"Really?"

"Rachel, you sang two lines and yet those two lines held more talent than the majority of people here."

"Mr. Schue, you haven't heard the majority of people here."

"But I still know. I'm that confident in you. And cracked voice or not, you will never make that confidence waver." He tapped her chin. "Got it?"

She smiled and gave him a wry smile. "It was a rough morning."

"Then let's make it a good afternoon. You _can _do this Rachel. I've been listening to you for three years. 'Everything's Coming Up Roses' is a walk in the park for you. You know it. And I know it. Now get out there and make them know it."

She smiled and mock-saluted him, as she had done once in a choir room so many years ago. He checked his watch.

"You better get going."

She headed towards the stage again, but spun around once more.

"Will you be in the back?"

"I don't have to be. If it'll distract - "

"I want you to be." She smiled as she tugged at her sleeve. "I need a familiar face."

"Then I'll be there. With bells and whistles." He took a step forward and hugged her. "Break a leg."

He smiled at her and walked towards the door. Turning around one final time, he watched as she stood offstage taking deep breaths. She closed her eyes and let a small smile ghost across, before schooling her features into what Will liked to call her "game face." And there she was, again. The Rachel Berry he knew was back.

He took his seat in the back of the auditorium and waited until the casting director called out, "Ms. Berry?"

She was already standing downstage, center.

"I'm ready." This time her voice did not shake.

She nodded at the pianist and he started the intro. Once again, Will held his breath as Rachel closed her eyes.

"_I had a dream, A dream about you, baby, It's gonna come true, baby, They think that we're through, but baby…"_ Her eyes found him in the back and it was as if her voice had just taken a shot of espresso. _"You'll be swell! You'll be great! You're gonna have the whole world on a plate! Starting here, Starting now, Honey, everything's coming up roses…"_

As the song progressed, Will's jaw dropped further and further. Sure, he had seen her perform some powerhouse 11th hour numbers, but never with such fierce determination. Her confidence grew and she began to move around the stage, her eyes always finding him again.

Not that Will was paying much attention to the casting directors, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he noticed that she was nearing the end of the song and they had yet to cut her off.

"_Honey, everything's coming up roses and daffodils, Everything's coming up sunshine and Santa Claus, Everything's gonna be bright lights and lollipops, Everything's coming up roses for me and for you!"_

With arms raised over her head, she held that final note for as long as she possibly could and Will could feel a tear fall down his cheek. The piano cut off and she let her arms drop back to her sides, panting.

It wasn't the ending of the song that broke Will out of his trance – it was the clapping coming from the casting director as he gave her a standing ovation.

"Well, I have to say, Ms. Berry, it appears that the second time's the charm. Callbacks will be in New York in a few weeks. I can guarantee that you will be getting a call from us for the exact date."

Will's heart soared. Rachel smiled and thanked the man, her excitement practically radiating to the top balcony. She began to walk offstage when the casting director stopped her once again.

"One more thing, Ms. Berry. Though there are still callbacks to hold and final decisions to be made, I strongly suggest you think about how adverse you'd be to relocating to New York."

Though she had held herself together remarkably well since belting out that the final note, she couldn't help the way her jaw dropped and her eyes lit up at the casting director's words.

"Yes, sir." She began to run offstage before throwing one final "Thank you, sir!" over her shoulder.

As Rachel disappeared, Will ran out of the auditorium. He entered the hallway just in time for Rachel to launch herself at him, nearly knocking him over.

"I did it!"

Will laughed, "I never had a doubt." He released her and she immediately began to bounce up and down.

"I'm going to New York! I'm going to a callback!"

"Rachel, did you not hear him? You aren't just going to a callback, you're practically guaranteed a part!"

Immediately the bouncing stopped and she paled. "Oh my god." She swayed and he held onto to her arm, just in case she went down.

"Rach, isn't this what you wanted?"

"Of course, I've wanted it since I was three. I've spent my whole life in the pursuit of getting out of here and now that I have that shot…"

He smiled. "You don't quite know what to do with yourself."

She shook her head.

"Well, my advice would be take it one step at a time. Step one, in my opinion, would be to call your fathers and let them know that they might want to invest in a U-Haul." She laughed. "Step two would be to get in your car and drive home since we've got a ways to go. Step three would be to make a pit stop and let me buy you a congratulatory milkshake. And as for step four, well, you figure it out."

"Sounds like a plan." The bouncing was back.

"I'll be in the parking lot when you're finished calling. I'll follow you home."

She bit her lip. "I tend to speed."

He smiled. "I won't tell."

She jogged down the hall to grab her bag from backstage when he called out to her. "Rach?"

She stopped. "Yeah?"

"I'm really proud of you."

Her face lit up with that mega-watt smile. "Mr. Schue, I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much today meant to me. Thank you."

Giving him one final look, she threw the backstage door open and entered the chaos.

When Rachel finally got into her car, she saw a bulletin announcing the auditions stuck under her windshield wiper. She pulled it out and was about to crumple it up when she saw the handwritten note in Will's familiar scrawl:

_I want the first autograph._

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was fitting that Rachel sang a song from "Gypsy" since the first role that took her out of Lima, OH and onto the Big White Way was precisely that: a 'gypsy,' a chorus girl.

Though she was just a headshot with the label "Ensemble," she mailed Will a Playbill anyway. It still hangs in his office.

Over the years, she worked her way up from gypsy to understudy and then to leading lady.

And on every opening night, after she takes her final bow, she searches for him in the audience. She always finds him somewhere in Center Orchestra around row E, a beautiful redhead at his side.

And despite the fans that adore her and the journalists that follow her, he still claps the loudest.


	10. Emma Part 2

**Sorry for the delay and thank you for the kind words, as always. My creative muse was stolen by the period of mourning I went into following the finale of Lost. All of my emotion was sucked into that, and sadly I had none to spare for Glee. But we're back, emotions intact (I think. I hope). So here now, the final chapter…**

_Emma_

_Part II_

She was like bookends: she began his day and closed his day. He'd always known she'd be the one to save him. He just didn't realize how many times she'd actually manage it.

That afternoon in the teacher's lounge, she kept him from making one of many life-altering mistakes.

"_That's you, Will. That's you happier than I've ever seen you." _

She saved his happiness, his way of life, his idea that you _can _do what you love because it's the only way to stay sane in this messed up world. Yes, she saved him from many things.

She even saved him from mistakes he _wanted_ to make.

"_What are we doing, Will? You're having a baby…" _

He didn't know how deeply he had emotionally invested in her. Not yet, anyway. It was a gradual yearning, followed by denial, then fear, and finally acceptance. He wouldn't give into it, though. He was too decent a man for that. But should his decency fail, it was certainly one mistake he was willing to take punishment for.

"_Can you think of any other options I might have?" _

She supported him.

"_You know, they said Van Halen was dead after David Lee Roth quit, but my worn out single of 'Right Now' says that they were wrong." _

And she sacrificed for him.

"_I wanna take the kids to Sectionals." _

He'd always known she'd be the one to save him.

"_I want you to look at me the way you used to." _

"_I can't."_

He broke her anyway.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The night air was almost as cold as the concrete he sat upon. He didn't know how long he had been huddled on her front porch, but his legs had gone numb and pain shot up his lower back, so he could guess.

His voice had gone hoarse, but he still reached up and gave a half-hearted knock in five minute intervals. If he couldn't beg her out, then perhaps he could annoy her out.

She had to leave sometime. They had school in the morning. He reached up one more time and let the knuckles of his index and middle finger drum against the wood.

"Emma, please."

Silence.

"Emma." He placed his palm flat against her door. "Please."

More silence.

"I'll stay out here all night if I have to."

The only response he got was the sound of her latching the second deadbolt. He let his head fall back against the door with a "thud." This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

"I already thanked you for the flowers; just go away, Will."

"It's not about…" He put his head in his hands. "It's not about the flowers," he muttered to himself.

"Go home."

Will slammed his hand against the ground. "I don't have a home!"

She fell silent again and he sighed, leaning back against the door. It still hurt to say those words out loud. He had known it for a while – ever since his house had become a reminder of all that he had lost, all that he had endured. His house had lost the title of "home." It wasn't warm; it wasn't inviting. It wasn't loved. It was wood and plaster and paint with a _Welcome_ mat as his only greeting.

Without warning, the door behind him swung open and he fell backwards into her apartment, letting out a very unmanly yelp as he went ass over teacups.

"Oh gosh!" She jumped out of the way.

Will rolled over and looked up at her, mouth slightly agape. After three hours, she had finally opened the door. He wasn't about to screw up his chance by saying anything.

"Get off the ground. It's filthy."

He quickly obliged and brushed off his pants as best he could. She walked back into the apartment, leaving the door open so he had no choice but to follow. He was surprised that she actually let him in. Clearly the therapy was paying off. It was the little changes in her that he had been too preoccupied to notice.

He watched as she retreated into the kitchen and removed the whistling kettle from the stove, pouring the hot water into an awaiting mug.

"Emma, I - "

She slammed the kettle back onto the stove top, cutting him off. "How dare you, Will."

"Emma - "

"No, there's something I want to say first so you're going to be quiet for a few minutes and let me speak. I figure your voice needs rest anyway after your hours of constant whining."

His pride was a little stung, but he did as she asked and remained quiet.

"Please stop me if I get any of this wrong: you flirt with me, you pursue me at my own wedding, you chase me, you kiss me, you persuade me to keep my job, you make out with me in the apartment whose lease still bears your wife's signature, you agree to take a break from me to 'find yourself,' you encourage me to get therapy, you make out with a woman who, for all intents and purposes, should be your enemy, you have a sleepover with a not-so-recovering alcoholic, and all of this happens before your divorce is even finalized. Please tell me, Will, at what point amid all the bed-hopping and tongue-dueling were you ever serious about being with me?"

He stood before her absolutely dumbstruck. And the part that he hated the most was that he couldn't dispute anything she said. It was all true and the truth settled in his stomach like a rock.

"Emma - "

"Don't 'Emma' me." She grabbed the mug off the counter and made her way to the living room, not caring if some of the liquid sloshed over the lip – a testament to how worked up she was.

"Do I least get a chance to talk?" he shouted. "I know I have no right to defend myself and I'm not going to. My actions have been… inexcusable."

She stared at him as she leaned against the back of the couch, her hair falling into her face. His feet moved toward her ever so slightly, but he kept his desire to brush it away in check.

"In your office, you said that you expected me to tell you how wonderful it was that I was 'in touch' with my feelings. Or whatever it was." He edged closer. "The truth is, Em, that I'm not. I have no idea what I'm feeling. I have no idea what I'm doing! And I'm terrified."

Emma fixed him with her gaze. "_You're_ terrified? How do you think I felt falling in love with a married man?"

Will's retort got stuck in his throat when the full weight of her words hit him.

"You love me?"

For a moment, he saw the old Emma. The Emma that looked perpetually like a deer caught in headlights – that lacked the courage and anger to put him in his place. It broke his heart that he was the one to put that anger in her eyes. But before he could look again, her steely façade was back in place.

"I think you need to leave now."

Will nodded in surrender and headed for the door. Before he could leave though, he had to make one thing clear to her.

"In answer to your question… I was serious about being with you. I still am. And if I'm honest with myself, I was serious about it long before I had a right to be."

She bit her lip, a trait that he loved. "It doesn't matter, Will. You were never mine to lay claim to anyway."

"Yes I was."

And with that, he walked out of her apartment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Loneliness and random bouts of nausea filled the final few days before Regionals. Will forgot what it felt like to not be in a constant state of stress and, without his rock to lean on, he was on the brink of losing it in the middle of Spanish II.

He no longer looked forward to work. He no longer "accidentally" bumped into Emma in the hallways, no longer had lunch with her in the lounge, and he eventually stopped seeking her counsel.

So often had he plopped himself in the chair across from her desk for advice on everything from dance moves to divorce.

He stood in the middle of the hallway staring in the direction of her door as his kids filed out of the rehearsal room and onto the idling bus. His nerves were on fire. He had hoped that his luck would hold out as it did after Sectionals when he exited her office and spotted her at the end of the hall, silhouetted against the sun. He threw one final look over his shoulder in vain as he exited the school.

She didn't appear.

The kids were the best they'd ever been and he truly believed that they could take Vocal Adrenaline. But Vocal Adrenaline made him think of Shelby and Shelby made him think of something he wished he could forget.

_Emma._ His thoughts always came back to Emma.

"_Some things are worth fighting for!" _

She had flung those words at him in the middle of the hallway and now that he was finally ready to fight for her, for _them, _she took away his reason to. Who dates a dentist anyway?

In the following weeks he had gone through a stack of post-it notes, leaving them on her desk, in her bag, on her computer screen, anywhere. One day, he returned to his classroom to find them crumpled up in a heap on his desk. Rejection was a feeling he had grown accustomed to over the weeks, but his familiarity did nothing to lessen the sting. Sighing, he pulled out a pen and jotted something down one final time.

**Last one.**

**I promise. **

**I miss you.**

He took comfort in the fact that the note was not crumpled on his desk the following morning.

School let out and Emma seemed farther away than Will ever thought possible. Despite the sunny days, depression kicked in. He stopped singing, he stopped smiling. He had everything he could ask for: a job he loved, a passion he sacrificed for. But he didn't have Emma and she was what he asked for the most.

Yet one stifling June day, he returned home to find a note stuck to his front door:

_I miss you too. _

It stayed on his refrigerator for the rest of the summer, restoring the hope she had taken from him as she drove out of the parking lot on that final day of school.

He never actually thought she'd take it beyond a pen and paper confession. But, as in so many things, she proved him wrong again.

Will stared at the door in bewilderment, thinking that his less than stellar state of mind had him hearing things now. He waited a moment and, sure enough, a knock came again.

Pushing the chair back with a screech, he padded to the door and swung it open, not bothering to look through the peephole.

And there she stood, in her radiant, pastel glory, holding a stack of envelopes as far away from her chest as humanly possible.

"Emma?" His voice was hoarse from lack of use. He had no one to talk to and he felt that talking to himself would solidify his place in the schizophrenic category.

"These were downstairs." She scrunched up her nose and shoved the envelopes in his direction. "They have your name on them."

"Oh. Thanks." He clumsily took the stack from her. "Did you come here just to give me my mail?"

"No, but it seemed like you hadn't collected it in at least two weeks so I thought…" she trailed off as her eyes finally met his. "Will, have you looked in a mirror recently?"

He shook his head and ran a hand across his face, almost dropped the mail in the process as he shifted under her scrutiny.

"What happened to you?"

He stopped fidgeting and his forehead creased with pain. "You happened to me."

He seemed to have stunned Emma into silence, so he turned and lazily deposited the mail on the cluttered dining room table. Dining room tables were for family dinners. Will figured that in his current circumstances, his coffee table would work just fine.

He wandered into the kitchen as she finally shook off her stupor, shut the front door, and followed him.

He could feel her eyes on him as he moved around, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and placing the kettle on the stove – a kettle he bought solely because she drank tea.

When he finally found the courage to look up, he found her staring at the refrigerator, the yellow post-it standing out against the stark white appliance. Without a word, she turned the knob on the stove off, took his hand, and pulled him towards the bathroom. Flicking on the harsh light that bounced off the mirror, she pushed him onto the side of the bathtub and rummaged around in his cabinet.

"What are you - ?"

"Shh."

Under her command, Will fell silent as she let the warm water run in the sink and cupped her hands under the spigot. Once they were sufficiently wet, she turned back towards him and gently ran her hands across his stubbled cheeks. He closed his eyes and leaned into her palm, making a small noise of protest when her warmth disappeared.

He watched as she pulled out the shaving cream and lathered up his face, before gently dragging the razor across his jaw line. He silently watched her as she methodically cleaned up every inch of shaving cream. A quick glance in the mirror showed him that the face he used to recognize was slowly emerging instead of the stranger he had come to see reflected there every day.

She wiped up a missed spot with her thumb, reached behind him, and turned the water in the bathtub on. When she straightened back up, she crossed her arms over her chest and stood resolutely.

"Arms up."

It took Will a second, but the coherent part of his brain managed to ask, "Excuse me?"

Her face was already blushing ferociously, but her voice was steady. "You heard me." Her command faltered for the briefest of moments, but she continued. "Arms up. You have to get out of these clothes."

Obediently, Will held his arms above his head as she lifted the shirt off of his torso. If it was possible, her face got even more beet red and her eyes remained on her yellow flats.

"Emma." He held onto her wrist as she began to move away.

"Don't, Will." She attempted to remove his fingers from around her, but his grip tightened.

"But why? Why are you doing this?"

She stared at him with a look that caused his breath to catch. It was love and fear and caution and the tiniest hint of lust as her eyes flicked from his face to his chest.

"Don't you know?"

And in that moment, Will had to tell her. He had to make sure she knew just how much he needed her. How much he wanted her. How much he loved her.

"Emma, I lo-"

She placed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Don't. Not yet."

"Not yet?" Try as he might, he couldn't stop the hope that flared in his chest. "That's not a 'no."

She smiled. "No, that's not a 'no.' But it's not a 'yes."

Will pulled away and smiled. "I'll take 'not a yes." He mischievously narrowed his eyes, "For the time being." Her eyebrow rose but he continued on. "So about this dentist…"

"Will…" her tone was warning and he smiled to show his jest. She shoved him backwards into the tub anyway, pants and all.

He resurfaced, coughing and spluttering, but smiling.

"You want to know why?" He nodded. "I've missed that smile."

His grin faltered for a moment as a sense of sadness creased his features. "I've missed that everything."

She leaned over slowly and placed a gentle, chaste kiss on his lips, resting her forehead against his.

"Not yet."

He smiled. "I'll wait."

She cupped his cheek. "I won't make you wait long."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Summer Saturday mornings were something Will had come to cherish. He rested his head against his palm and stared at the red hair strewn across the white pillow. He traced light fingers across the porcelain skin and inhaled the scent of vanilla shampoo. So lost in his contentment was he that he never saw the slender arm head towards his face until it was too late. It connected with his cheekbone, its owner still groggy with sleep as she rolled over and burrowed her face into his chest.

"Sorry, Daddy," came the muffled apology.

"S'okay, baby." He nuzzled his face into his daughter's hair as she snuggled deeper in between her parents. Will wrapped his arm across her tiny body and around her mother's waist. Emma's chest steadily rose and fell – it was a rhythm Will set his heart to.

In the years that passed, there had been a wedding, a nationals championship, and a positive pregnancy test.

Despite the years and despite the changes, one tradition remained the same. The yellow post-it notes had formed a collage, becoming a sort of documentary of the Schuester household. It was a comfort, a joke, a convenience… a necessity.

**I miss you.**

_I love you. _

**Marry me. **

_I already did. _

**Let's do it again. **

_I'm pregnant._

**Ice cream's in the freezer. **

**It's soy.**

_I ate all the ice cream. _

_Can you grab more?_

**Glee might run long. **

_Leftover's are in the fridge. _

_Be quiet when you come in. _

_She's sleeping. _

_Thank you for the flowers. _

**Thank you for our daughter.**

And the final one, faded with age, yet laminated with care, securely stuck on the refrigerator with a magnet made in pre-school craft-time.

_I miss you too. _

The End.


End file.
